moth in the raita shakes the yogurt from his wings we still eat outside
There is all the worry about co-existing with wild creatures in our decreasingly wild world — we’ve stolen their habitat, they get into our garbage.
But sometimes it’s less complicated than that. It can be lovely, surprising, funny.
There was a grackle in the Whole Foods today and I assure you, he was not panicked. He was, in fact, totally satisfied. And then, tonight, eating Indian food with friends, we had this run-in with a moth. It was momentary. Surprising. Kind of funny.
And then it was over, the moth flying toward its next pretty light. And we, moving onto a delicious nutty naan.
air heavy and green
mounting thundercloud above
and still, there’s no rain
It is so dry here that everything crackles — the grass, the leaves, the dust.
And we haven’t even hit the heat of summer yet.
Fronts move through and we all stop, look up, hopeful…
4/27/2011
hello, mourning doves
collecting seeds and berries —
your nestlings coo, coo
My daughter’s school is wrapped and woven with covered, outdoor hallways and in every rafter, it seems, are nests. And in the bushes in my backyard. And in the boxes strung up high on the hill near our house. Baby birds, everywhere… hungry, eager, surprised and wide awake.
the front yard is dirt
we dug up everything green
so we could start fresh
OK, so I seem to be stuck on the start fresh theme.
I guess by April I sort of need a few do-overs.
And honestly, our yard was already mostly dirt.
Now we’re just going to try to really grow some stuff in it….
shards of ceramic
like stars across the counter
not a bowl I need
It was a funny Easter.
The eggs, it turns out, weren’t exactly hard-boiled.
And our pets were all afraid of the cobwebs (the string mazes our girls follow to get to their baskets).
And we were all so tired after a big week, we actually ended up at a Wimpy Kid matinee.
So it’s no surprise it culminated in a spectacular kitchen crash — a ramekin on the concrete kitchen counter.
Never mind, though.
Easter, pagan or Christian, is about fresh starts.
Right?
Another week with no real time at my desk.
A lovely problem to have.
So here, from my journal, are my haibuns….
4/20/2011
this head of romaine
a gargantuan bouquet
the whole world’s salad
Today’s veggie basket bore beets and turnips, spinach and radishes and the most spectacular head of lettuce I’ve ever seen in my life. Tonight, caesar salad for everyone!
4/21/2011
middle of the bridge
between bright birds and water
a piano waits
There is a public art project in Austin right now — 15 pianos set around town — in parks and on paths, near streets, atop bridges — there for the playing. When my mom and dad and I walked around the lake this morning, we passed three, stopped to play one, and then listened to a guy play a bluesy piece while his friend accompanied him on her accordion. And then we carried on…
4/22/2011
candy-colored dye
vinegar and white wax crayons
each egg a canvas
In spring, we read outside, eat outside, shuck corn, make crafts and take naps outside.
It’s too nice to waste, this weather.
So this morning, out we went with our little plastic cups of orange and turquoise and blue, and our hard-boiled eggs.
The squirrels worried and the wind blew and we created these shining little balls of light…
4/23/2011
missing cat is back
with matted hair, and limping
I wish he could talk
We have two old boy cats and one of them, in particular, is a wanderer. About once a year he’ll take off for a few days, we’ll worry that he’s gone for good, and then he’ll come trotting back in, meowing for food. This time it was a full week, and he’s older, and the days are hot and dry. I’d even posted on the neighborhood listserv and checked the animal shelter. No luck. Until tonight, when he arrived — looking as if he’d been on an epic journey. Skinny and beat up, but alive. It is so odd to wonder where he’s been and what he’s been through, and to know that we’ll never know…
Still catching up at my desk, adding haiku from this weekend.
The town has, after a flurried week, emptied itself of writers, editors, agents and librarians.
There’s an eerie quiet, which I suspect I’m meant to fill with work…
4/16/2011
Each oar dips and pulls
Each runner’s footfall answers.
Birds sit still and sing.
I’ve run around this lake hundreds of times before, but today with folks who haven’t, making it new to me, too.
4/17/2011
Sometimes, a whole grape —
puncturing skin with my teeth.
Sometimes, a grape’s wine.
Large gatherings, work or social, tend to pivot around meals.
The continental breakfast. The coffee.
The mid-morning lift, the lunch outside, and the dinner, a little too rich…
And then, before long, the next morning’s coffee again.
My daughter’s not home
Sky is dark and moon is high
I’m learning to breathe
For now, she’s just babysitting.
Next year, she will be at a party.
With her cell phone accidentally turned off.
And there will be a year abroad, or a boyfriend, or she might run out of gas.
And I will remember what it was to be her age.
I really, really hope I will remember…
